Harry Potter & the Blatant Copyright Infringement
by Trivea
Summary: Harry saves the day! Never seen THAT before, have you? Chapter fifteen now available in two flavors - regular, and jelly-filled.
1. All the Titles Got Rejected

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter...hm, actually...considering the title, I could say I do and get sued! Whee! Ok, this is a parody of HP...just consider it another novel. I'm writing this with the help of my dear friend Mom.  
  
Special! Rejected chapter titles!  
  
-Harry Gets Blamed for Stuff He Didn't Do  
  
-Harry Sings in the Shower  
  
-Harry Sings in the Shower and Wakes up the Neighbors  
  
-Malfoy Acts like a Git  
  
-The Weasley Twins Make Things Blow Up  
  
-Percy Acts like a Git  
  
-Mr. Malfoy Sneers  
  
-Hermione Knows More than Everyone Else  
  
-Snape Acts like a Git  
  
-Ron Gets Scared  
  
-Dobby Acts Annoying  
  
-Dudley Goes on the Slim Fast Diet  
  
-Moby Dick  
  
~*~*~  
  
Chapter One : All the Titles Got Rejected  
  
~*~*~  
  
Harry crawled out from under his bed. He sniffed the air cautiously. 'Is that me?' he thought. He then blinked as he heard the hair-curdling, blood- curling screech of his Aunt Petunia.  
"What are you doing?!" she yelled as she stormed into his bedroom. He scrambled to his feet. "It's Duddy-poonums-punkinpie-shnoogie-woogums' Special Day!!" She then paused and sniffed the air. "Is that you?"  
"I know it's Duddy-poonums-punkinpie-shnookielumps-honeytoes- boogerbear-jacktheripper-pleasetakeanumberandwaityourturn- DarthVaderisLukesfather-whatwehavehereisafailuretocommunicate-ParisHilton- salsaverde-lobsterthermadore-holyhandgrenade-poo's Special Day," Harry said. "I was just... getting ready."  
"Well, hurry up!" Aunt Petunia said and, with one last sniff, swept out of the room.  
Harry was far less thrilled about the day than the Dursleys, who were celebrating that Dudley had managed to walk past the neighborhood bakery every day for the past week without eating it. Just then, Dudley barged into his room without knocking, eating the head off of a small child. He grunted to Harry, "Say, have you been blamed yet for anything you didn't do?"  
Harry looked thoughtful. "Hmm... not recently, no."  
Dudley nodded and swallowed the child's Nikes. "Just checking. It's pretty early in the book, after all, and you don't usually get in trouble for something until at least page 3 or 4." He sniffed. "Is that you?" Without waiting for an answer, he waddled off, belching "God Save the Queen" in the key of F.  
Harry rolled his eyes as he heard Uncle Vernon say, "Isn't our Duddlelumps talented?" A pause. "Petunia, do you smell that? Is it that boy again?"  
Harry galumphed down the stairs. Aunt Petunia called out, "No galumphing in the house!" There was a knock at the door.  
"Knock, knock, knock!" went the knock.  
Uncle Vernon said, "Answer that, will you, Dudley?"  
"Well, all right, but I'll feel like a bloody twit," Dudley answered, and, turning to the door, called out, "Knock, knock, knock!"  
"No, Precious. Daddy means open the door," Aunt Petunia said sweetly.  
"Oh. Right." Dudley took hold of the door handle and pushed.  
"The other way, Pookums," Aunt Petunia urged.  
"Right." Dudley opened the door inwards. "Mum, Dad, there's a kid with his head on fire on our doorstep!"  
"Oh, shut up," Ron said, pushing past him.  
Harry blinked. "Ron! What are you doing here?"  
Ron shrugged. "I'm here to help you make a daring escape. No one likes these chapters where you're at the Dursley's, anyways."  
Harry nodded. "Makes sense," he said before looking at Uncle Vernon. "Can I go, then?"  
Uncle Vernon looked back at him. "No."  
"Ok, then. I'll stay here, then." He winked at Ron, and began singing, "I love yooooou, you love meeeee, we're a hap-py fam-i-leee, with a great big hug and a kiss from..."  
"Get out!" all three Dursleys screamed, pointing at the door.  
The two boys ran up to Harry's room to get his trunk and Hedwig. On their way down, they were singing gaily, "I-i-it's a small world a-a-after all! I-i-it's a small world a-a-after all! I-i-it's a small world a-a- after all! It's a small, small wo-o-o-o-orld!" With a jaunty wave, they were out the door.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Chapter one! Um...well, that was fun. Shall we continue? Shall we not for the sake of your sanity? Only you, dear reader, will be able to determine that. (Actually, we'll continue whether you like it or not, but we like to give you a sense of empowerment.) Review! 


	2. I Cry Because You Yodel

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!  
  
Disclaimers: Just read the first chapter's.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Chapter Two : I Cry Because You Yodel  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Mate, is that you?" Ron looked sidelong at Harry as they carried the trunk between them. Hedwig hooted and flapped in her cage.  
"Are we gonna walk all the way to your house?" Harry asked.  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, but we can be there by the next sentence, so it doesn't really matter."  
The Burrow loomed ahead of them. "See?" Ron said. "My house is looming."  
"Quite convenient," Harry nodded approvingly. "These fiction writers don't fool around, do they?"  
Ron shook his head. "Not typically."  
Harry then looked thoughtful. "But...isn't looming a bad thing? It makes me think of Snape."  
"Yeah, he is quite a loomer, isn't he?" Ron asked, his tone conceding agreement. "He's quite a nutter, too, now that I think about it..."  
They entered the house. "Come on, we can put your things in my room," Ron said. As they headed for the stairs, Mrs. Weasley entered the room.  
"Harry, dear, how good to see you. Ron, how dare you breathe?" she said.  
"Hi, Mum," Ron said wearily. "You know, one of these days I'm going to gun down a postal office and you're going to ask yourself, 'Where did I go wrong?' and the police will tell you..."  
Harry interrupted. "It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Weasley," he said, elbowing Ron in the ribs.  
"Oof!" Ron said, and looked annoyed at his friend. He was about to say something before he was hit in the head by a furry, screeching tennis ball. Then by his owl, Pig.  
"Hey, Ron, you caught it! Jolly good," Fred said, galumphing down the stairs.  
Mrs. Weasley shook a finger at him. "No galumphing in the house."  
Ron winced and rubbed his head, glaring at his older brother. "What was that thing, anyway?"  
"Couldn't ya tell, Ronnie-kins?" George asked as he came downstairs as well. "It was a furry, screeching tennis ball."  
"Well of course it was," Ron said with a shrug.  
"Is that thing going to figure into the plot?" Harry asked.  
The twins looked at each other. "We'll see what we can do," Fred replied. And off the two galumphed, taking their tennis ball with them.  
Mrs. Weasley watched them go, exasperated. She sniffed the air. "Dear, is that you?" she asked Harry. Just then the front door opened, and Mr. Weasley entered.  
"Hullo, all," he said cheerfully. "Harry! How good to see you! Perhaps you can help me." He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and dug into the pocket of his overcoat. "Look what I found just outside the Ministry." He withdrew an empty can of squeeze cheese. "Exactly what is this for, Harry?"  
"Squeeze cheese."  
"Squeeze cheese? Squeeze cheese...by Jove, that's rather fun to say, isn't it? Squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squee-..."  
He was cut off by Ron slapping his hand over his mouth. "Yes, Dad, it's a regular laugh-a-minute to say that over and over."  
"Mph," Mr. Weasley agreed. He repocketed the can. Slowly Ron took his hand away, looking at his father warily. "But what does one _do_ with it?" he persisted, causing his son to look thoughtful.  
"Well...uh..." Harry began, a little unsure how exactly to explain the intricacies of Cheez Whiz, "you...you push down the little white top and artificially colored and flavored cheesy food product squirts out onto a cracker. Then you eat it."  
"And Muggles actually _like_ it?" Mr. Weasley asked, unconvinced.  
"I didn't say they _like_ it, I just said they _eat_ it," Harry answered. "Kind of like Spam."  
Ron was the curious one this time. "Spam?" he asked in a disbelieving tone. "You just made that up!"  
Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't. Spam is a canned meat-like substance. It's pink and it's always in the shape of the can no matter what you do to it...and it has flecks of animal parts spattered all over it. Dudley loves the stuff...it's American."  
"Ah, well, that explains it," Mr. Weasley nodded, satisfied. "I must get a full can of this squeegee stuff and a can of this...er...canned meat- like substance. I wonder how they'd taste together..."  
Ron made a face but decided against editorializing. Harry shuddered at the thought of Cheez Whiz on Spam.  
"Dinner's ready," Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. Both boys swallowed.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Eww...Cheez Whiz and Spam...if any of you weirdos out there actually _try_ that, please tell me so. Otherwise, just review. 


	3. Frankenstein meets the Wolfman

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!  
  
Disclaimers: My mom says that if J. K. Rowling ever reads this, she'll turn over in her grave. I told Mom, J. K. Rowling is still alive. Mom said, "Well, this would kill her."  
  
Chapter Three : Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman  
---  
The next morning, all of the Weasleys and Harry sat down to breakfast.  
"Oh, your Hogwarts letters arrived," Mr. Weasley said, holding them up and passing them to the recipients.  
"Let's see..." Ron said, opening his and flipping to the supply list. "Geez, look at all the crap we have to get!"  
"Ron, language," Mrs. Weasley scolded.  
"Sorry, Mum. Wow, look at all the crap we have to get!" Ron corrected.  
"Much better," his mother said with a nod. "What do we have to get?"  
"Well...let's see...the usual stuff...Standard Book of Spells Grade Six, new Potions book...quills...marshmallows...a toy car with one of those little peg people with giant round heads and smile even as they hurtle to the ground in a hopeless downward spiral...oh, and lots of new Defense Against the Dark Arts books."  
"Such as...?" Mrs. Weasley pressed.  
"Well...one of them is 'How Not to Tell When Your Teacher is a Bad Guy', for instance," Ron said, scanning the list.  
"That's always good to know," Harry said with a nod.  
"And 'How Not to Defend Yourself Against Your Teacher Because He or She is Not a Bad Guy'...oh, and this looks interesting. 'No Bad Guys Here: A Guide to Self-Delusion'."  
"Well, at least the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor isn't a bad guy this year," Ginny said, leaning over her bowl of cereal. "Hey, my Alphabet Crunchies are trying to communicate with me!"  
"Again?" Fred asked, leaning over her shoulder to peer into her bowl. "Hey, she's right. It says... 'No matter how you slice it, it's still bologna'."  
"How deep," George agreed with a nod before looking at Harry. "Last time they said 'Buy International Steel at 28 1/2'."  
Mr. Weasley suddenly stood. "Well, it seems to me that it's time for an un-announced, spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment trip to Diagonal Alley."  
"Diagon Alley," Mrs. Weasley corrected.  
"Quite! Shall we go, then?" the man said, not even slightly phased before walking over to the fireplace, the rest behind him. He put his hand in the Floo Powder jar before turning around and screaming.  
Mad-Eye Moody rubbed his ear. "Don't scream, Weasley. Just wondering...are you sure that Floo Powder's safe?"  
"Um...relatively, yes," Mr. Weasley said."  
"Oh, all right, then." Without another word, Moody then walked off.  
Harry turned to Ron. "What was he doing here?"  
Ron shrugged. "A very brief cameo."  
Harry nodded before looking back at Mr. Weasley with antici...pation. And so they flooed to Diagon Alley.  
Upon arrival at The Gnome Depot, Mrs. Weasley checked her list. "Right. Quills, ink, and parchment. This way, boys."  
Ron looked at Harry. "I'm bored."  
"Already?" Harry asked.  
"We're going to go look at the Quidditch supplies, Mum," Ron said.  
"Alright, boys. Mind you don't run into any Evil Overlords on your way."  
Outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, a vast group was gathered.  
"Why, look at that vast group gathered outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies," Harry noted.  
"Mm," Ron agreed. "Shall we see what all the brouhaha is about?"  
"Brouhaha?" Harry asked, but ignored it as they got a closer look at the newest broom model on display.  
"Wow, it's the new Buttmover 6 7/8!" a little boy exclaimed, his face and hands pressed up against the window. "Let's galumph in for a closer look!"  
And in the crowd galumphed, ignoring the sign, which clearly read "No Galumphing in the Shop."  
"Well," Harry said, "there galumphed the crowd." The two then turned their attention back to the broom.  
It was shiny.  
"Well, you know what this means," Ron said, looking at Harry. "It means you're going to have a tragic Quidditch accident, making you fall from great heights but still survive, though you lose the Firebolt in the process and then get this by some random, unknown means."  
"I don't wanna ride a broom called the 'Buttmover'," Harry complained.  
---  
Yes. The Buttmover 6 7/8. Be the first on your block to have one. 


	4. JellO Makes a Fun Noise when Shlucked th...

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: Have you ever tried to lick your own elbow? You can't do it...

* * *

Chapter Four : Jell-O Makes a Fun Noise When Shlucked Through a Straw

* * *

Eventually, the authors grew bored with the Diagon Alley premise, so the characters found themselves on the Hogwarts Express.

"Here we are, on the Hogwarts Express," Harry stated, nodding in agreement with himself. He sat gazing out the window at the swiftly passing countryside.

"That was a rather pointless statement, wasn't it?" Ron, sitting across from him, asked. Just then, Hermione galumphed into the compartment.

Suddenly, a voice came over the intercom, saying, "No galumphing on the train."

"Hallo!" she said cheerfully, glad to see her friends again. "Have you seen the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" She sat down next to Ron.

"No, not yet. Have you?" Harry asked, tearing his gaze from the swiftly passing countryside and onto the non-swiftly passing classmate across from him.

"Yes! And he doesn't look like a bad guy at all! He's in the next compartment. I had a chance to speak with him. His name is Professor Boogie-Mann," Hermione said.

"Did you just say Professor Boogieman?" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione scowled. "Of course not. That would be silly. I said his name is Professor Boogie-Mann."

"Oh, well, that's alright, then," Harry said.

"What did you do this summer, Hermione?" Ron asked.

Before she could answer, the Nice Lady with the Candy came by with the trolley.

"Hallo, Nice Lady with the Candy!" Ron exclaimed.

"Hallo, dears," she replied. "We've got a nice assortment today. Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's, Pumpkin Pasties, Gopher Wafers, Vanilla Horse Tonsil Delight, Kavity Krispies, Marshmallow-Rhubarb Swirl, and Pixie Stix."

"Pixie Stix?" all three children asked in disgust.

"I'd like a box of Gopher Wafers, please," Harry said with a smile.

"I tried the Vanilla Horse Tonsil Delight. It has hardly any flavor at all," Hermione said as the Trolley Lady dispersed.

Harry shared his Gopher Wafers with his friends as Ron told Hermione about their adventures with squeeze cheese and Spam. Hermione was suitably repulsed.

"Thank goodness we aren't Muggles and eat normal food," she said as she popped a Gopher Wafer in her mouth.

Suddenly, the sky outside the window turned grey. The glass began icing over. Harry felt the blood rush from his face as a Dementor appeared in the window. Not wanting to look, but unable to look away, he stared in open-mouthed horror at the ghastly apparition.

Slowly the glass pane lowered. The Dementor was flying along beside the train, the hem of its nightmarish garment barely brushing the rocky ground below. The sound of its rattling, wheezing breath filled the compartment as it began sucking the warmth out of their very beings.

The thing spoke. "Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?"

They all slowly shook their heads. The creature shrugged and disappeared.

Ron looked over at Harry, who was clutching at his chest and panting. "Well, that was random," he said, reaching for another Gopher Wafer.

* * *

Gopher Wafers and Kavity Krispies on a train. Does life get any better than this? 


	5. Make Big Money in Real Estate in

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: You know, bananas really aren't all that funny.

By the by: We, your beloved authors, planned out this storyline before Half-Blood Prince came out. So, naturally, the cast of characters and the plot has changed drastically. So we came up with the only logical solution – ignore all the character and plot changes and keep doing what we were doing.

- - - - -

Chapter Five : Make Big Money in Real Estate in your Spare Time

- - - - -

After extensive discussion, the authors decided there wasn't much to say about the journey from the Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts itself, so the characters arrived at the Great Hall, ready for the feast.

The Sorting Hat placed all the newcomers, although Professor McGonagall had to assure one anxious and particularly gullible first year that the Hat was merely having its bit of fun; there really was no house called Burn for Eternity in the Flames of Hell.

After the Sorting, Professor Dumbledore rose to speak.

"Aren't you dead?" a boy at their table whom they had never met called.

"Different storyline," Dumbledore replied. "Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, I have a few announcements to make. First years will notice there is no galumphing in the castle. Also, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden, hence the name, though I know half the school will find its way into it before Christmas. Now, it is my pleasure to welcome the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Kree P. Boogie-Mann."

Professor Boogie-Mann rose and nodded towards Dumbledore in thanks. The students eyed him warily, having had less than stellar luck with their previous DADA teachers. The professor was thin, dressed all in black, with a stovepipe hat and handlebar moustache, which he twirled occasionally while emitting a 'mwahahahaha' sound.

"Professor Boogie-Mann," Dumbledore continued, "is a retired Auror, holder of the prestigious Wizard of the Year award three years running, and has received the Order of Merlin, First Class. His hobbies include vanquishing evil spirits, not being a bad guy, tying young women to railroad tracks, and collecting Pokemon cards. He enjoys candlelit dinners, walks on the beach, and talking about his feelings. He is single number six hundred forty-three on where his username is notabadguy. He is also not a bad guy."

A round of applause came from the students as Professor Boogie-Mann took his seat with one last moustache twirl.

"And now, let the feast begin!" Dumbledore said, and instantly the plates were filled with meat, pies, puddings, Cheez Whiz and Spam, sweets, and anything else they could imagine.

"Hallo!" the boy whom they had never met said cheerfully to Harry.

"Hallo," said Harry. "Who are you?"

"My name's John. John Expendable-Character. I'm in your year in Gryffindor. Isn't that convenient?"

"Why haven't I seen you before?"

"Oh, you've seen me around. I just never have anything worth mentioning ever happening to me. And when something does happen to me, you're somewhere else, and all the books are written from your point of view. Usually when something happens to me, I end up in the hospital wing. I get hurt a lot."

"Nice to meet you. Will you be figuring into the plot somehow?"

"Probably, because I actually got an introduction."

They all enjoyed the feast, dining and chatting and waving occasionally to the odd passing ghost. When they were dismissed to go to their houses, Ron groaned, "I ate too much. I shouldn't have had that third serving of Strawberry Trifle."

Hermione looked at Ron disapprovingly. "Three? You had three servings of dessert? Why?"

Ron replied, "Because I couldn't eat four."

Giving the Fat Lady the password (swordfish), they trundled into the common room.

Suddenly, the chapter ended.

- - - - -

Okay, okay, happy now? You have a new chapter. Gee, nag nag nag...


	6. 1001 Squash Recipes

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: Is there anything cuter than a baby penguin?

---

Chapter Six : 1001 Squash Recipes

---

Once settled in the common room, the students drifted into groups and began excitedly chattering about the upcoming year and the events of the summer.

"Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb," went one group.

"Peas and carrots, peas and carrots, peas and carrots," went a second.

"Mumble, mumble, mumble," went a third.

"Is it just me, or are we the only group that can be clearly understood?" Ron asked from his seat in front of the fire.

Neville's voice came floating from the second group during one of those odd times when everyone in the room is taking a breath at the same time. "And my gran said, 'Neville, what in God's name are you doing in my dress?' And I said…" He noticed the room was quiet, and shut his mouth quickly.

"Don't worry, Neville," Hermione spoke reassuringly from her group to him. "No one was listening."

John turned to Harry. "Over the summer, I lost my foot in a pinball accident."

"What, again?" asked Luna.

"How did you get it back?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well, it grew back when the nuclear reactor beside my house had a core meltdown."

"What, again?" asked Lavender.

"And I thought bad luck followed Neville around," Ron muttered to Hermione.

"The odd thing about the core meltdown," John continued, "was I heard this sinister 'mwahahahaha' sound right before it happened."

"That was the only odd thing about it?" Ron asked.

"Yes – the air raid later in the summer was stranger."

Suddenly, John spontaneously combusted. He ran around on fire for a few minutes before someone took pity on him and threw a goblet of pumpkin juice on him to put him out.

"Whew. Thanks," said John.

"How could I possibly have gone this many books without ever noticing you before?" Harry asked, staring at him.

"Excuse me a minute," said John. "Don't worry, Bactine's in my trunk." He left the room, smoldering.

Suddenly, a sense of dread filled Harry. A sense of dread unlike any he had felt since the last time he felt this same sense of dread. It could only mean one thing.

Dobby was here.

"Harry Potter is back!" the annoying little creep said, clapping his hands and dancing with Glee.

Glee the house elf said, "Get your hands off me," and left the common room, galumphing down the hall.

"No galumphing down the hall!" the Fat Lady called after her.

"Hi Dobby," Harry said weakly.

This year found Dobby in completely new attire, comprised of plaid golf pants and a smoking jacket.

"Nice outfit," said Ron.

They talked, but quite frankly, their conversation wasn't noteworthy. John reentered the room.

Dobby waved Cheerfully. Cheerfully got dizzy and staggered out of the common room.

"Hello, John Expendable-Character!" Dobby said happily.

"Does everyone know this guy except me?" asked Harry.

Suddenly, Dobby left for no apparent reason, except that he was feeling Paranoid.

Paranoid slapped his face and followed Cheerfully to help keep him steady.

Ron turned to Hermione. "This is a seriously weird running gag."

"Well, we have a big day ahead of us, and the chapter needs to end, so I'm going to bed," Harry said, standing. Everyone agreed that was a fine idea, and said their goodnights before heading upstairs.

---

There.


	7. Never Pet a Wet Aardvark

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: How come Robin never just said, "Holy crap, Batman!"?

---

Chapter Seven : Never Pet a Wet Aardvark

---

Harry and Ron lay in their respective beds and talked for a while before they each drifted off to sleep.

Harry dreamed he was slithering through a mist. 'Ah, I'm a snake,' he thought. 'Again.'

He slithered on and on through the mist. 'This is boring.' The full moon shone overhead, slightly overcast by the dark and sinister clouds that hung above his head.

He made his way up the front steps and through the door of an old, dilapidated castle. Dust dominated every surface and the only light came in through the broken windows caked with the grime of decades. A chill wind blew through the glass, stirring the moth-eaten, rotting curtains. His heart beat faster.

He wanted to leave, to get away. He did not want to be here. But he couldn't help it – it was as though something were drawing him. He slithered up the long, twisted, stone staircase, which was so cold it almost hurt his stomach as he wound his way up. He could hear the dull creaking of footsteps on old floorboards above him, like nails on a chalkboard.

'Get out,' he told himself. 'Get out now. You don't want to see what's upstairs. I don't know what it is, but I know it's a horror that should remain unknown to mankind.' Yet he was unable to turn and retreat. He could only continue up, up, up.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear the low tones of jovial, celebratory singing. Voldemort. He was...singing?

His curiosity piqued, he peered through the doorway of the only dimly-lit room along the corridor. There he saw the Dark Lord in front of a full-length mirror, wearing a long evening gown, dancing and singing, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright!"

Harry awoke, screaming, with his eyes burning.

Ron jumped awake. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," Harry panted. "Just a dream."

"Oh." Both boys lay back down, Harry's heart pounding in his chest.

"I was dreaming too," Ron said.

Thankful for the diversion, Harry said, "Really?"

"It was about a tomato."

"Oh."

They lay quiet for a minute or two.

"I ate it," Ron added.

"Good for you."

Another moment of silence.

"What do you think it means?" Ron asked.

"Professor Trelawney would tell you it meant you were going to die of tomato poisoning."

"Oh."

More silence.

"I didn't die in my dream."

"Go to sleep, Ron."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

---

This is the kind of thing we write when we don't get enough sleep. Our apologies.


	8. Hand Me That Piano

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: I got a rubber duck and a Drama Queen pillow for Christmas.

Note to The Real Evil Penguin: YES! YES! 'Galumphing' IS so from Jabberwocky! Have a cookie! Don't be afraid.

---

Chapter Eight : Hand Me That Piano

---

With the next chapter came the next day, and with the next day came an explosion of plot.

It began when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their way to breakfast. That wasn't out of the ordinary. The pictures on the walls were watching them, wishing they too could breakfast as well. That wasn't out of the ordinary, either.

The Creevy Brothers were lying face down in the middle of the hallway. That was a little odd.

"Why do you suppose they're lying face down in the middle of the hallway?" Ron asked.

"Maybe they're tired," Harry responded.

"No, they look sort of dead." Ron checked Colin's pulse. "Yep, I'd say dead as a doornail."

"What was your first clue, the lack of pulse or the fact that his camera's sticking out of his mouth?" Hermione asked.

"How can you tell that when he's face down?" Ron asked.

"Good-...I mean, oh, no! We'd better leave before I get blamed for it!" Harry exclaimed before the three of them began galumphing in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

"No galumphing in the halls," the portrait of Boris the Slightly Comatose called after them.

They slowed down to a trot. Suddenly, Professor Boogie-Mann dashed past them from the direction they had come, his cape wrapped around his body as he went, "MWAHAHAHAHA!"

They watched him wordlessly as they trotted on. Professor Boogie-Mann disappeared around a corner.

"You know what I think?" Harry panted as they trotted.

"What?" Hermione and Ron panted together.

"I'll bet Snape did it."

They got to Dumbledore's office, but then realized that they didn't know the password. So they just started shouting out everything that came to mind.

"Fizzing Whizbee!"

"Drooble's gum!"

"Cockroach cluster!"

"Licorice wand!"

"Cheese whiz!"

"Spam!"

"Crunchy Frog!"

"Lewis and Clark!"

"Go, go, Power Rangers!"

"Diet Coke!"

"Breakfast burrito!"

"Mince meat pie with just a touch of whipped cream but no crust, thanks, I'm doing Atkins!"

"Those little colored sprinkly things you put on ice cream, but I can't think of their name!"

"No more buttered scones for me, Mater, I'm off to play the grand piano!"

"Wafflebuttons!"

With that, the door sprang open. The three looked at each other in question. "Wafflebuttons?"

"I have no idea where that came from," Harry admitted. They shrugged it off and proceeded to galumph up the moving staircase.

"No galumphing on the staircase," the picture across the hall reprimanded before it disappeared from sight.

"Why are we galumphing twice this chapter?" Ron asked as they ascended.

"Because we didn't in the last one."

Entering Dumbledore's private sanctuary, they found the Headmaster engrossed in something he was writing with parchment and quill.

He was muttering as he was writing, "I long for the touch of your..."

"Professor!" Hermione cried out.

Dumbledore looked up quickly.

"Sir, you must come right away!" Harry said. "Something has happened to Colin and Dennis Creevy!"

Taking in the three frightened faces in front of him, Dumbledore rose immediately and moved toward the door. "What happened?" he asked.

"It's...it's kind of hard to say, sir," Harry said.

"They're dead," Ron said helpfully.

"Thank you, Mr. Tact," Hermione said sourly.

Dumbledore stopped suddenly. "What do you mean, dead?"

Hermione answered promptly, "Dead, adjective. No longer alive – having passed from the living state and being no longer alive. Inanimate – never having been alive and having none of the characteristics of a living thing. See deceased."

"Oh, that dead. Are you quite sure?" he began hurrying down the stairs, the students following him closely.

"Relatively, sir. They weren't breathing and had no pulse. And Colin had a camera in his mouth," Harry said, trying to keep up with the Headmaster.

"At least we think. They were face down," Ron added.

When they reached the Creevy Brothers, they were still dead and had drawn a small crowd. Hard to imagine why – I mean, they weren't doing anything entertaining. Just lying there. Face down. With or without camera in mouth.

"Stand aside," Dumbledore said. The students did so.

"Professor!" John Expendable-Character cried out. "They're dead!"

"Oh, John, that's old news," Hermione said with a touch of exasperation.

Dumbledore knelt down and checked them for signs of life. He stood grimly and announced in clipped tones, "All students will return to their common rooms at once."

"Why is it that whenever something happens, we have to go to the common room?" Neville asked the throng in general.

"Because it beats 'Just keep wandering around and get killed too,'" Ron suggested.

The students returned to their common rooms as instructed. Dumbledore hurried to tell the rest of the school there would be no classes today.

---

Creepy, huh? Is anyone depressed by this? We, your beloved authors, aren't. We're downright ecstatic. Euphoric. Giddy. Tickled pink. We hate the Creevy Brothers. And that stupid camera.


	9. Rules and Regulations for Strip Backg

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: Word of advice: never hold a cat and a Dustbuster at the same time.

---

Chapter Nine : Rules and Regulations for Strip Backgammon

---

The funeral had been nice. The whole school had attended. There were lots of flowers and photographs, plus free pony rides and balloons. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron had sung a lovely duet of 'I'll Be Seeing You'. Many tears were shed. Cho Chang had cried so much she became hysterical and got the hiccups at the same time, and had to be escorted out. Luna Lovegood sniffed loudly several times and wiped away tears with a souvenir handkerchief embroidered with 'South Eiderdown – the sardine capital of the world'. John Expendable-Character cried a great deal when his hands got slammed in Colin's casket.

Extra security had been brought in to protect the students and staff from the mysterious intruder. Four ghosts had been recruited for patrolling the houses – Lord Wilmington of Diamonds for Ravenclaw, Lady Beckinsale of Hearts for Hufflepuff, Count Basey of Spades for Slytherin, and Clive of Slightly Angled Ovals for Gryffindor.

"Why do we get all the weird people?" Ron complained over dinner.

"What do you mean?" asked John Expendable-Character, massaging his bandaged hands.

"Never mind," Ron sighed, returning to his cheese and chutney sandwich.

Nearly Headless Nick appeared and said, "I see you have Clive for your extra security! Excellent! Fine ghost, Clive!"

"What kind of title is that, Clive of Slightly Angled Ovals?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he couldn't very well be Clive of Upright Ovals, now could he? That was his father's title," Nick explained patiently before sailing off.

"Well, of course he couldn't," said Ron. "That would just be silly."

"Harry, you haven't said anything this whole chapter," Hermione noticed.

"What? Sorry, I was playing with my balloon," Harry said, tugging on the string in his hand to make the red balloon go 'wooblie wooblie wooblie'.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and held up his hands for silence. Across the Great Hall, balloons stopped woobling. "I have an announcement," Dumbledore announced, not distracted in the slightest by the woobles. "Although we have recently experienced a horrible tragedy," he said, and the Great Hall suddenly draped itself in black, "we must remember the reason we are all here. This is a school, and we need to attempt to return to some semblance of normality. Classes will begin tomorrow."

With that, he resumed his seat, and the Great Hall colors returned to normal. Balloons began woobling again. Professor McGonagall turned to the headmaster.

"Are you certain we shouldn't dismiss classes and send all the students home, Albus?" she asked, concerned.

"Quite certain, Minerva," he assured her. "We wouldn't have a story otherwise."

"Oh. Of course," she agreed, turning back to her lintel soup.

"At last!" Hermione said. "I was afraid we'd never be starting classes. I even wondered if we would all be sent home because of this."

"But then there wouldn't be a story," John Expendable-Character said sensibly.

Suddenly, Cho burst into tears again, and everyone had to raise their voices to be heard over her wails.

"She cries more than a French football player," Ron said to no one in particular.

Soon after it was time for bed, and the student body galumphed from the Great Hall as the ghosts reprimanded, "No galumphing in the corridors!"

---

Yeah, no deaths this chapter. Heh...Clive.


	10. Chicken Soup for the Shoemaker's Soul

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: If you had six legs, where would your arse be?

---

Chapter Ten : Chicken Soup for the Shoemaker's Sole

---

Upon leaving their first class of the year, Conversational Giraffe, our intrepid heroes made their way to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"You know," Ron observed, "Conversational Giraffe would be a good name for a rock band."

"Wait up!" Hermione called, joining them on their route to Professor Boogie-Mann's class.

"How was Clown Exploding class?" Harry asked as she fell into step with them.

"I'm not taking Clown Exploding, I'm taking Healing and Other Useful Stuff," Hermione sniffed.

As they entered the classroom, John Expendable-Character was sitting at one of the tables, smoldering. Literally. He was charred black and a thin halo of smoke encircled his head.

"What class did you just get out of?" Ron asked him.

"Clown Exploding," John replied. The others joined him at the table.

"I still don't see how I avoided running into you for the past several years," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Speaking of avoiding people, look who just walked in," Hermione said distastefully.

Malfoy walked over to their table, sneering at John. "Nice explosion you caused back there, Expendable."

"_You're_ taking Clown Exploding?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione all asked incredulously, staring at Malfoy.

"It's an easy O," Malfoy growled before stalking over to his own table.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed before flashing like lightning. A roar of thunder filled the room, as well as a sinister 'mwahahaha' sound. Hannah Abbott screamed and fainted. Neville went pale. Malfoy hid under his table.

"Scoot over, Crabbe," Malfoy hissed, elbowing his crony in the gut.

Suddenly, the sounds stopped, the lights went up, and everything was hunky-dory. Standing in front of them, top hat, cape, and all, was Professor Boogie-Mann, looking very pleased with himself. The class stared wordlessly until Hermione blurted out, "Good grief, what an entrance."

Ron leaned over to her and muttered, "But at least it wasn't the entrance of a bad guy."

Professor Boogie-Mann's beady eyes cast about the room. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said. "I am your instructor, Professor Kree P. Boogie-Mann."

Hermione raised her hand. "What does the 'P' stand for, sir?"

"Pabout," Professor Boogie-Mann said without batting an eyelash.

"Professor Kree Pabout Boogie-Mann?" Ron muttered. "I think he made that up."

The professor continued, but Harry wasn't listening to his introduction to the class. He found himself thinking about the Creevy brothers. They were dead. Murdered. And somebody was responsible. His money was on Snape. After all, he considered, idly watching Professor Boogie-Mann twirl his moustache as he demonstrated how to set fire to a chipmunk, no one else in school was so obviously nasty.

"Psst, Harry," Hermione whispered. "Wake up." All the other students were opening their copies of No Bad Guys Here : A Guide to Self-Delusion. Harry snapped out of his reverie and did likewise. The professor directed them to Chapter One : So You Want to Be a Member of the Easily Misled Masses.

Class proceeded normally, but Harry could not shake the uneasy feeling of Impending Doom. He made a mental note to say something about it to Ron and Hermione after they were dismissed.

"I can't shake the uneasy feeling of Impending Doom," Harry said to Ron and Hermione after they were dismissed.

"It must be bad, it's capitalized," Hermione observed as Ron nodded in agreement.

"Are you afraid another student is going to...to..." Ron tried to ask.

"...to meet an untimely end in a most gruesome and bizarre fashion?" Hermione added helpfully.

"Well, something like that," Harry said uneasily. "There is every indication that there is a murderer amongst us."

"Us?" Ron asked. "You mean the three of us?"

"No, you twit, us as in the whole school," Harry said impatiently.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore and the teachers are taking every precaution," Hermione said. "And I'm sure they're doing all they can to catch the murderer."

"But what if the murderer is one of the teachers?" Harry asked.

"Like who?" Ron asked.

They heard a loud 'mwahahaha' from down the hall.

"Snape," Harry replied.

"Yes! It's so obvious!" Ron exclaimed.

"Ron, don't encourage him," Hermione scolded. "Harry, why on earth would Snape want the Creevy brothers dead?"

"Who didn't want the Creevy brothers dead?" Ron retorted.

"Be that as it may, you can't just go around accusing people of murder. It annoys people in the movies."

"Well, who else could it have been?" Harry asked.

There was a loud explosion from the direction of the DADA room, accompanied by more 'mwa's and 'ha's.

"Well, I don't know, it's only the tenth chapter," Hermione said huffily.

"All this talk about death and murder is all well and good," Ron said, "but it's time for lunch. Can't we discuss something a little easier on the digestion?"

Suddenly, a scream resonated from the Great Hall.

---

Yep. Cliffhanger. Who has died now? Is it...

1) Luna Lovegood, the weird little space alien who reads magazines upside-down...

2) Draco Malfoy, the obnoxious little git who doesn't read magazines upside-down...

3) Cho Chang, the whiny-butt crybaby that irritates everyone and makes farm animals restless up to two miles away...

4) Seamus Finnegan, the argumentative momma's boy...

5) Spanky the Wonder Muppet, who slices, dices, makes Julian Fries, and floats through the air with the greatest of ease...

-OR-

6) Britney Spears

Find out in the next thrilling episode! We already know, but we ain't tellin'.


	11. Mr Magoo can Moo, can you?

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimer: PBS – if we don't bore you to tears, who will?

---

Chapter Eleven : Mr. Magoo can Moo, can You?

---

When we last left our heroes, suddenly, a scream resonated from the Great Hall.

"What was that?" Ron asked, startled.

"I think it was G sharp," Hermione answered.

Harry was already running towards the Great Hall. His friends took off after him. The portrait of Dorian Gray the Subtle Literary Reference said, "No gal-"

Harry shouted, "We know, we know! No galumphing in the hall!"

The three sped on. When they arrived at the Great Hall, there was a Great Commotion. The ghosts were sending all of the students out the door and back to their Houses. Professor McGonagall hurried out. "I've got to inform Professor Dumbledore at once," she said.

"What did we miss?" Harry asked.

Distracted, the professor said, "Back to your Houses, all of you." And, without answering Harry's question, she hurried off in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

"What did we miss?" Harry asked again.

Students were filing past them as the ghosts continued shooing them out the door and down the hall.

"What did we miss?" Hermione asked.

"There's been another death," a Hufflepuff girl answered.

"Now what was I doing wrong?" Harry asked Ron.

Breathlessly, Neville approached the three. "It's Cho," he said. "She's dead."

Harry gasped. "What? How?"

"She...she..." Neville stammered.

Luna came up, looking quite calm amidst the pandemonium. "Cho Chang choked chewing on a chunk of chocolate cherry cheesecake."

"That's good," said Ron. "Try this one – rubber baby buggy bumpers."

"No, really," Luna said. "That's how she died."

Ron paled. "What a way to go."

Lord Wilmington of Diamonds was waving the students on. "Nothing more to see here...move along, move along..."

As they returned to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione said sourly, "I suppose you're going to suggest that Snape had something to do with Cho's death?"

"I don't know," Harry considered. "Does he cook?"

"Harry!" Hermione reprimanded.

"It's a fair question," Ron pointed out. "Swordfish," he said as the Fat Lady swung open.

"It is _not_ a fair question," Hermione said, flinging herself huffily into a chair.

Suddenly, with a pop, the annoying little maggot otherwise known as Dobby appeared in the room. He wore a Worried expression. Worried stormed in, grabbed his expression back, and stormed out again.

"Terrible news! Terrible, terrible news!" he moaned, wringing his hands.

"We heard," Ron said. "Cho Chang chopped a chimichanga with a chimpanzee in a..."

"No, no, no!" Hermione said sharply. "Cho Chang choked chewing on a chunk of chocolate cherry cheesecake!"

"That's what I said," Ron said defensively.

"Dobby," Harry said suddenly. "You work in the kitchen."

"Oh, Dobby knows that, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said.

"Did you see anything suspicious in there?" Harry continued.

"Suspicious, sir? Like what?"

"Like someone who didn't belong in there? Perhaps a teacher? Tall, dark greasy hair, pointy nose, ever-present sneer, general aura of not-niceness, looks kind of like the guy who played the Sheriff of Nottingham in Prince of Thieves?"

"Is Harry Potter speaking hypothetically?" Dobby asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Now that Dobby thinks of it, he did see-"

Suddenly, Seamus burst into the common room. "The kitchen exploded!" Dobby gasped and disappeared with another pop.

Ron looked at Hermione. "The kitchen exploded? John must be in there, then."

"Is that where they're keeping the extra clowns?" Harry asked.

"Well, I must say, you're all taking Cho's death rather cavalierly," Hermione said.

"Well, after all, Hermione, we've already had two deaths this week," Ron pointed out. "The novelty has sort of worn off."

---

We can hear you leaping for joy at Cho's demise all the way out here. Don't try to deny it. The younger authoress now has a strange craving for cheesecake, though. And her Evil Mother just laughs at her cruelly and won't go bake a cheesecake because it's almost midnight. But the younger authoress has Cocoa Puffs, so all is soon forgotten.


	12. How I saved Christmas

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimer: If a chicken and a half laid an egg and a half in a day and a half, how long would it take a grasshopper with a wooden leg to kick all of the seeds out of a dill pickle?

---

Chapter Twelve : How I Saved Christmas

---

Amidst the woobling of post-funeral balloons, Professor Dumbledore made his announcements after dinner.

"Repairs on the kitchen should be completed by morning, so we will have something to eat other than peanut butter tomorrow."

Students and staff nodded muttered a hearty agreement, although their tongues were stuck to the roofs of their mouths.

"Clown Exploding class has been suspended until further notice due to the fact that we have run out of clowns."

The Headmaster looked solemnly over the Hall. "I daresay you needn't be told that there have been a disturbing number of deaths within the bounds of Hogwarts. Nor must you be told that the perpetrators will be severely reprimanded when discovered. So I won't." He sat down.

Professor Boogie-Mann giggled.

Sitting next to him, Professor McGonagall cast a curious glance in his direction, but said nothing.

"I'm going back to the common room," Hermione said tiredly.

"Don't you want to stay for dessert?" Ron asked.

"What is it?"

"Peanut Butter Surprise."

"What's the surprise?" Harry asked.

"Seven layers of peanut butter."

"I'll pass," Hermione said, waving her hand.

"Your loss," Ron shrugged.

Clive escorted Hermione and several other Gryffindors back upstairs. The other security ghosts did likewise with their charges.

After eating their way through seven layers of peanut butter, Ron turned to Harry and said, "Mumph murmph murrle murmph."

"Mmm?" Harry asked.

Ron took a drink of peanut juice to unstick his tongue and repeated, "I said, 'Mumph murmph murrle murmph'."

"Oh. That's what I thought you said."

As they stood to return to the common room, Harry looked around. "Hey, where'd John go?"

"Oh, he wasn't here tonight," Ron said. "He _was_ in the kitchen when it exploded, so he's in the hospital wing."

"Rotten luck," Harry shook his head.

"Typical John, though. Swordfish," he said at the entrance. The Fat Lady swung open, and they galumphed through the portrait hole.

"No galumphing through the opening," the Fat Lady scolded, swinging shut again.

The common room was deserted – it was obvious everyone else had already retired for the night in the relative safety of their own rooms. Harry and Ron decided to do likewise, and shortly thereafter were in their own beds.

Harry couldn't sleep. He couldn't help thinking about the recent deaths. They all had something in common, something to link them together...but what?

Ron yawned loudly from his bed.

"Ron," Harry hissed so as not to wake the others.

"What?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so, Harry, but if you're my sunshine, my only sunshine, what happens when you die?"

"No, I mean about the recent goings-on!"

"Don't worry, Harry, they'll get more clowns."

"No! I mean the murders, you prat!"

"Oooh. What about them?"

"They've got to have some connection between them."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, I can't figure it out. And did you notice? Snape wasn't at dinner tonight."

"He probably doesn't fancy peanut butter."

"Ron! You don't get it at all, do you?"

"Get _what_?"

"Why would Snape miss coming to dinner tonight? And I didn't see him at Cho's funeral, either."

"Cho's funeral was crowded, Harry. I didn't see a lot of people."

Harry sat up. "I don't think he was there."

"So? I would have liked to have given it a miss myself. We've already had one funeral this week, after all."

"Two," Harry corrected him.

"One funeral for two people."

"Will you two shut your gobs?" Dean said sourly, chunking a pillow at Ron's bed.

---

I have popcorn stuck in my throat.


	13. I Married a Creature from Out of Town

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimer : The plot thickens, like a good gravy.

---

Chapter Thirteen : I Married a Creature from Out of Town

---

For a short time, there were no more murders, and life returned to normal. The kitchen was rebuilt, classes began again, and they got more clowns. The extra security ghosts were always on the job, and one or the other of them was constantly having a tiff with Peeves the Poltergeist.

One evening, Harry and Ron were in the library studying for their upcoming test in Things that go Boom, Spew and Whoop when Hermione joined them.

"I thought I'd find you two here," she said.

"Got a test tomorrow," Ron said.

"Say, Ron," Harry began without looking up from his text book, "would you say that a Zitheranian Bagpipe Bird makes more of a 'Boom' sound or a 'Whoop' sound?"

"Depends on what you do to it," Ron replied.

Hermione sat down next to Ron. "I need to go over my notes for Clouds that Look like Seventeenth Century Philosophers. Mind if I join you?"

"Why, are we coming apart?" Ron and Harry asked in unison.

"That's an old joke," Hermione sniffed.

"Yes, but we did it in tandem."

Just then, John came into the library with a distraught look on his face. He sat down next to Harry, burying his face in his hands.

Harry gave John a sympathetic look. "Did Recreational Lawn Chair Tossing not go very well?"

"It's not that," John said. "I just can't shake the feeling that there's going to be another murder. And with my luck, I might... might..." He choked on a sob and had a coughing fit.

Ron looked at Harry. "He's right, you know."

"What, that he might might?"

Hermione handed John her handkerchief.

"Thanks," said John. He blew his nose loudly into it.

"The murderer seems to have gotten bored with his little game," Hermione tried to console John. "No one's died in, what, a fortnight?"

"Sixteen days, but who's counting?" John sniffed.

"We're still no closer to finding out who's doing it," Harry complained. "Even though we all know it was Snape."

"Harry, we all know no such thing!" Hermione scolded.

Suddenly, Madam Pince loomed over them threateningly. "You are all talking much too loudly and disturbing my books! They're trying to nap! Get out!"

The students quickly gathered up their belongings and galumphed out of the library. "And no galumphing in the library!" she called after them.

"It's just as well, we weren't getting any work done anyway," Ron said with a shrug. "Come to think of it, I think a Zitheranian Bagpipe Bird makes more of a Spew than anything else..."

"So when's the first Quidditch match, Harry?" John asked, somewhat recovered from his depression.

"Week after next," Harry replied.

"Been practicing a lot, have you?" John continued.

"Quite a bit," came the reply. "We've been hard at it for the past week. Nothing of any note has happened at any of the practices, though."

"Is that why this is the first time we're hearing about it?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry answered. "We hope to win the cup this year."

"I should think so. Our readers would be disappointed otherwise," Ron said.

"Do you have any openings on the team this year?" John asked. "I'd love to..."

"NO!!!" the other three replied, all at once. They were all visualizing John having his head removed by a Bludger, or getting a Snitch in the eye, or flying straight into the referee or plummeting uncontrollably into the ground and bursting into unearthly flames hot enough to make the devil himself say, "Hey, could someone open a window?" or being ripped into a million pieces by some passing birds in a freak accident that would make a smashing front page story in the _Daily Prophet_, or...or...or...

"Hey, why are we in the trophy room?" Ron suddenly asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "I guess we were just walking while our minds were preoccupied. I didn't even notice where we were going."

"MY mind certainly was preoccupied!" Ron said. "I had a hideous vision of John ricocheting off one of the clowns in the stands and getting flung into the fiery bowels of..."

"Hey, where IS John?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Maybe we hurt his feelings with our rather rude reply to his request," Hermione suggested, feeling a little guilty.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Harry said, "but the thought of John on the Quidditch team..."

The three shuddered as more possibilities floated through their minds.

Abruptly, Hermione screamed.

"AHH!"

"Well, that was rather abrupt," Ron noted.

"What's all over the walls?" Hermione asked, pointing.

"I give up, what's all over the walls?" Harry asked.

"Whatever it is, it's disgusting! And gooey!"

Ron took a closer look. "It's disgusting goo!" he concluded.

From way down the hall, they heard a faint 'mwahaha!'

"Snape must have put it here!" Harry exclaimed.

"Give it a rest, Harry," Hermione said sourly.

"You know, this gooey disgust looks rather familiar," Ron remarked, still studying the walls.

"You mean it's someone we know?" Hermione asked, revolted.

"Look, it's Peeves' hat!" Harry exclaimed, pointing to a red cap that had fallen on top of the award labeled 'To Nearly Headless Nick – Third Place in the John Cleese Look-Alike Contest'.

"And here's Peeves' tie!" cried Hermione, pointing to the other side of the room.

"Peeves' cufflinks!"

"Peeves' shoes!"

"Peeves' belt!"

"Peeves' autographed picture of Lindsay Lohan!"

"Are you saying," Ron said slowly, growing pale, "that this gisdusting doo is... is... Peeves' Pieces?"

"Eeeewwwww..." the three ewed, backing out of the room.

They quickly retreated to a less sticky room.

"But how could Peeves die?" Ron asked incredulously. "I thought he was already dead!"

"Why would Snape want to kill Peeves?" Harry wondered aloud.

Hermione ignored him. She was beginning to develop one of her theories.

"You look like you're developing a theory," Ron said, looking over at her. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"No, it's too early in the book for that. I have to confuse you for a few chapters." With that, she hurried off to the library.

"I hate it when she does that," Ron muttered.

"Come on, we'd best let Dumbledore know," Harry said. With that, they headed to the Headmaster's office.

---

Mmm. Peeves' Pieces.


	14. The Care Bears in Huggles and Squizzles

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers : If I hear the sentence 'We need to be more tolerant' one more time, I'm gonna shoot somebody.

---

Chapter Fourteen : The Care Bears in Huggles and Squizzles Land

---

There was no funeral for Peeves. He was already dead, after all, and a funeral for a twice dead guy just seemed a bit repetitive and redundant. To everyone's disappointment, this meant no pony rides or balloons, either.

Classes continued unabated, and life returned to normal; at least, as normal as it could be, what with so many dead and all. Harry was filled with anticipation at the approach of the Quidditch season.

"We'll be starting Quidditch soon," Harry said to Ron as they hurried towards their Duct Tape Yourself Thin class. "That fills me with anticipation."

"Smells more like you're filled with beans and broccoli. Is that you?" Ron asked. "We're going to be late for class. We'd better galumph." And so, off the two galumphed, ignoring the blinking neon sign proclaiming, 'No galumphing in the halls'.

They made it to class in time, just as the duct tape teacher, Professor Bluecollar, was gathering his lecture notes. Harry scarcely listened to the lecture, as he was anticipating Quidditch (as mentioned in paragraphs two and three). Oh, and also wondering from time to time who the murderer on the grounds was. Then he remembered it was Snape, and went back to his anticipations.

Practices went well, and before he knew it, it was the night before the first game. They were to play Slytherin, and tensions were high. They suspected Dobby was, too. He kept popping in and out of the Gryffindor common room to make random announcements, like, "Dobby just saved a lot of money on broom insurance by switching to Geico!" or "Dobby has Harry Potter on his underwear today!"

"Sounds like Dobby's been lighting up in Professor Sprout's greenhouse again," Hermione observed.

Just then, John walked through, carrying his left arm, which had been severed from his body, over his right shoulder. The other three looked at him with surprise.

"Paper cut," John explained sheepishly. "Need to go to the hospital wing."

"How does he do that?" Ron muttered as they watched John and his arm disappear through the portrait hole.

"I still don't see how we avoided noticing him until this year," Harry said.

"Did we ever find out where he went when he disappeared on us last chapter?" Ron asked.

Hermione replied, "I asked him. He told me his brain was beginning to hemorrhage and he had to go take something."

Their chat of John and his vast array of ailments continued, and before they knew it, it was time for bed. They slept through the next part of the chapter, including a particularly smashing bit involving McGonagall bitch-slapping Filch from the first floor to the astronomy tower and a rather amusing scene involving the Mirror of Erised, Professor Trelawney, three cocker spaniels and some rather questionable shellfish, but since this story only follows Harry's exploits, we shall skip to when he woke up.

Harry awoke, positive he had heard the sound of skipping, and looked around to see Dobby sitting in the corner.

"Oooh, what did Dobby do last night...?" the annoying little prat moaned, clutching his head.

Ignoring him, Harry arose and dressed, ready to prepare for his upcoming game by going down to the Great Hall and not eating breakfast.

"Dobby hopes he isn't pregnant," the elf groaned. Harry left before Dobby said anything else and raised the rating of this story.

After breakfast, everyone hurried out to the Quidditch field for the upcoming match. Harry had been pleased to note that Malfoy had looked a little green in the Great Hall, but that might have just been the eggs. They dressed in silence, and no one gave a pre-game speech, because three books have come out since the beginning of this story and the authors no longer know which storyline to follow, and subsequently, who to deem captain.

They made their way out onto the pitch amidst the roar of the crowd, facing the Slytherins with looks of grim determination. This was it. This was the game the whole school had been waiting for. This was the moment. This was the time. This was the place. This... is CNN. No, wait, James Earl Jones wasn't in the Harry Potter movies. Sorry.

Anyway, this was it. The moment of glory. The moment of tension. The moment I laid eyes on you... sorry. The teams mounted their brooms and prepared to kick off as Madame Hooch raised her whistle to her lips and placed her hand on the latch of the Big Box o' Quidditch Things. The whistle sounded as the lid flew open and the Bludgers took to the sky.

The Golden Snitch flew out of the box and straight up Harry's nose.

It was the shortest game in Hogwarts history.

However, as Harry had been prepared for a kick off and didn't, his broom decided to start without him. It flew straight up into the air, made a sharp turn, and took a nose-dive into the Whomping Willow.

Harry missed all of this because one of the Snitch's wings was tickling his brain.

"Well, mate, it looks like you're getting a Buttmover," Ron said, clapping Harry on the back.

"Huh?" Harry responded, pausing in his Nasal Snitch Dislodging efforts.

---

Did you know we started writing this before the fifth book came out? It's true.


	15. Didja Get that Thing I Sentcha?

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement

Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimer: Mosquitoes suck.

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Chapter Fifteen : Didja Get that Thing I Sentcha?

--

Harry got to keep the Golden Snitch he caught. They didn't want it back, after it had been in his nose and all.

"Well, this chapter is off to a raring stop," Ron said with a yawn.

"Yep," Hermione agreed, not looking up from her absorbing pastime of twiddling her thumbs.

"Anybody wanna play with my Snitch?" Harry asked, holding the little golden ball up.

"No," the other two replied quickly.

The rest of the night was boring, so the authors skipped to breakfast. Harry, Ron, and Hermione woke up to the sound of skipping, which was a bit disconcerting all things considered.

"That sounded like two authors," Hermione said.

"Hermione, get out of our room!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at the door with one hand while pulling his blankets to his chin with the other.

Breakfast was especially good that morning; it consisted of all young people's favorite morning food -- cold pizza. Also, mail was delivered. Owls swooped in bearing envelopes and packages. They disappeared as quickly as they came.

Ron stared at his plate. "Either there are chocolate chips in the pizza, or one of the owls had an accident."

"That's disgusting," said Hermione.

"Don't tell me. Tell the owl," Ron replied.

The doors banged open, and Dobby rushed along the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. He skidded to a halt next to Harry and grabbed a package with Elation.

Elation yanked his package out of Dobby's hands, said, "Don't touch my mail," and stormed out.

Harry missed all of this as he was busy examining a long, broom-shaped package in front of him stamped with 'New Broom!' in bright red ink.

"Wonder what it is?" Harry mused as he began tearing away the paper. As he did, a voice from inside proclaimed, "Congratulations on the new broom!"

"No clue," Ron said in response to Harry, shaking his head.

The paper gave way, and a box stamped in bright, neon green letters proclaimed: "Contents: One New Broom." The letters flashed rhythmically. As Harry, still puzzled, quizzically lifted the lid, a deep voice from inside the box boomed, "BROOM!"

"Just open it, the suspense is killing me!" Ron said, on the edge of his seat.

"It's a broom!" Harry exclaimed as he threw the lid across the room, smacking Goyle in the back of the head with it.

"Hey, there's a card," Ron said, leaning over and pulling a little slip of paper out. "To Harry Potter, from someone who is so completely not a bad guy. P.S.: Mwahaha."

"Hmm…that's not suspicious at all," Harry mused as he stared down at the broom. "After all, the only bad guy around here is Snape, and why would Snape send me a broom?"

Inside the box, lying in the packing peanuts, was a brand new Buttmover 6 7/8.

It was shiny.

"Aw, crap," Harry said, hanging his head.

--

It's about time Harry got a Buttmover. Don't you agree?


End file.
